


blood still stains when the sheets are washed

by talkingtoangels



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gore, M/M, Murder, SASO 2016, illegal organ trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtoangels/pseuds/talkingtoangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t make it far without cutting corners somewhere. It’s just the way this botched society works.”</p>
<p>“You and I both know that what we do is more than ‘cutting corners.’”</p>
<p>“Neither of us are here right now because we decided to be good people, unfortunate as that is. I think we both know that.” Yahaba turns to head out. “Don’t forget to clean up, Kyoutani.”</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>Or, Yahaba sends a gift to Kyoutani. It's a jar of formalin, wrapped in duct tape.</p>
<p>Written for SASO 2016 Bonus Round 3: Gift Tags</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood still stains when the sheets are washed

The man’s movements cease, and Yahaba takes a deep breath. Turning to Kyoutani, he hisses, “Quick, we need the kidneys, heart, and the liver.”

Kyoutani nods silently and gets to work on the man. Their target has been dead for maybe almost one minute, so they have to do this fast.

Yahaba works on procuring the heart, while Kyoutani’s busy with the liver. Their hands are quick and steady, working with no hesitation at all. In this business, even the slightest error could deem the entire organ unfit for sale or trade, not to mention the huge time pressure looming over their backs throughout the entire procurement procedure. One second too late, and the organ is unusable.

Beside him, Kyoutani finishes with the liver and brings it to the cooler. Yahaba’s finishing up the heart when he hears Kyoutani swear.

“What? What is it?” Yahaba asks without looking up, but with anxiety evident in his voice. Having been in the organ trafficking business for a few years now, he knows that nothing good ever comes of declarations of dissatisfaction through cursing during the extraction process.

Kyoutani turns to face him, and out of the corner of his eye, Yahaba can see that Kyoutani’s holding a jar. “We ran out of formalin.”

Successfully extracting the heart, Yahaba stands and walks over to where Kyoutani is standing by the cooler. He sees a little less than a quarter of formalin left, and mumbles a curse of his own.

“Are you kidding me?” Yahaba shakes his head, there’s no time to be frustrated. He hands Kyoutani the heart. “Okay, I’m going to get his kidneys, you figure it out.”

Kyoutani grunts and Yahaba gets back to the body. He hadn’t said that last part as a quip and Kyoutani hadn’t taken it as one, as they might have much earlier on in their partnership. They’ve both come a long way together.

When Yahaba’s done with the kidney, he brings it over to Kyoutani, who’s managed the best he can in their current situation.

“Right now, they’ll maybe last an hour and a half,” Kyoutani informs him.

Yahaba moves to rub his temples but remembers his blood-spattered gloves in time. He moves to peel them off. “I’ll be on my way to Hokkaido before then. And the dealer won’t be here until two-thirty in the morning.”

“I know.” Kyoutani’s eyes are dark, pupils blown large in the dim light.

Tossing his soiled gloves in a plastic bag, Yahaba begins to pack up. “Don’t worry, I think I can get you another jar of formalin on my way.”

Yahaba can feel Kyoutani’s gaze following him around the room. “I don’t think any shipping company in Japan is that efficient. Not to mention it’s past business hours.”

Yahaba smirks, hiking up his duffel bag. “Who said I was going to be using a shipping company? How long have you been in this business, Kyoutani-kun?”

Kyoutani snorts. “Trust you to think of some shady way to get this done.”

Yahaba cocks an eyebrow and intentionally sweeps the room with his eyes before returning his gaze to Kyoutani.

Kyoutani rolls his eyes. “Alright, I get it. Nothing we do is legal or morally correct. What’s another favour or two from other criminals?” he says the last part sarcastically.

“You don’t make it far without cutting corners somewhere. It’s just the way this botched society works.”

“You and I both know that what we do is more than ‘cutting corners.’”

“Neither of us are here right now because we decided to be good people, unfortunate as that is. I think we both know that.” Yahaba turns to head out. “Don’t forget to clean up, Kyoutani.”

Kyoutani doesn’t say anything, and after a moment’s pause, Yahaba starts walking towards the door. There’s something unsaid between the two of them, overshadowed by the task at hand and Yahaba’s departure.

But maybe that “something unsaid” has been between them since long before that, and it’s only more prominent now that they won’t be seeing each other for a few months, at least. Maybe not even until the next job.

But if Kyoutani’s not going to bring it up, then Yahaba certainly isn't going to do it.

Yahaba’s hand is on the doorknob when he hears Kyoutani’s voice through the still apartment.

“Wait. Yahaba.” Yahaba looks back to see Kyoutani standing in the hallway, a strange expression on his face.

“Yes?” Yahaba replies, lightly.

Kyoutani pauses, seemingly trying to either put his thoughts into words or find the courage to actually speak those words. Yahaba almost turns back to the door again, but Kyoutani’s voice stops him, again.

“Be careful,” Kyoutani says it hushed, tight, like a taboo.

Yahaba flashes him a grin. “When have I been anything but?”

“I’m serious.” Kyoutani still has that strange expression on his face, his voice is still strange, and Yahaba doesn’t like it. Not at all.

Yahaba shifts the way his bag is resting on his shoulders. “I am, too.”

For a moment, they're both silent. Kyoutani continues looking at him with that strange look. Then, Yahaba realizes that _this_ , whatever _this_ is, it's Kyoutani addressing whatever’s unsaid between the two of them.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Yahaba says, genuinely. He doesn't say goodbye, because that's not the type of people he and Kyoutani are. Turning back to the door, he twists the doorknob before stepping through and closing it behind him.

When he's back in his own apartment, Yahaba grabs a jar of formalin and a roll of duct tape. He tapes the entire jar over and packs it into a paper bag. He then calls up Kunimi and explains that he needs a favour.

Just as he's about to leave, Yahaba hesitates. Grabbing a pen and a scrap piece of paper, he hastily scrawls down a note and slips it into the paper bag.

Exiting his apartment building, Yahaba checks his watch. 12:34 AM.

He slips the paper bag behind some shrubs by the entrance to his building for Kunimi to find later, before getting in his car parked by the curb. He estimates that he’ll be in Hokkaido by tomorrow afternoon if nothing goes wrong.

He drives by the street where he and Kyoutani had just been doing a job not an hour ago. Yahaba remembers their last conversation by the door. He knows that eventually, they’ll have to deal with what it means, but he sure as hell doesn’t think he can deal with it now. He’s not sure that this development is a good thing. He feels a growing sense of dread in his stomach, and he tries to squash it down.

But Yahaba’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel anyway. He’s nervous. He knows that Kyoutani would have cleaned up and left by now, and there’s no sense in being anxious about it. They’ve done this enough times now, and he knows better than that. Kunimi will probably pull through as well, he does owe Yahaba a favour from a while ago. So there’s really no reason to worry.

Except there are sirens in the distance. Yahaba knows that Kyoutani would have been out of that apartment by now, but he doesn’t know how far he would have been able to get.

Yahaba remembers the way Kyoutani looked, standing in the empty hallway. He remembers the way Kyoutani’s voice sounded when he’d said _Be careful_. Yahaba’s breath hitches in his chest.

Yahaba may not be sure about much in his life right now, but the one thing he is 100% certain about at this moment is that the sirens, steadily getting louder, are not a good thing for the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Sippy Cup by Melanie Martinez.
> 
> Note: Human organ trafficking is inhumane, especially when murder is committed in order to procure the organs. I do not intend for this fic to portray organ trafficking or the traffickers' actions as humane or acceptable.


End file.
